


Heart

by K_is_for_Kairon



Series: Contracts [2]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Abduction, Canon-Typical Violence, Fights, M/M, Memory Alteration, Memory Loss, Probably some sexy time at some point, Recovered Memories, Recreational Drug Use, They have poor communication skills, Torture, spooky shit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2020-03-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:53:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22607305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/K_is_for_Kairon/pseuds/K_is_for_Kairon
Summary: Following their bloody adventure in the nameless woodlands, Molly, Caleb, and the rest of the Mighty Nein are given another job. Go to Rexxentrum. Foil the cult of Akerion once more and perhaps destroy it altogether.In the days before they leave, horrible nightmares begin to plague Mollymauk's nights, having horrible impacts on his waking life.Sequel to Infernal
Relationships: Mollymauk Tealeaf/Caleb Widogast
Series: Contracts [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1245197
Comments: 26
Kudos: 54





	1. Prologue - Lucien

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to Mar, Seb, and Ali for the beta.
> 
> Extra special thanks to everyone who read Infernal and who is still sticking around after such a gap between Infernal and Heart. I know it's been a long time, but I'm back and this is getting finished.

In the darkness wolves were howling. The sky was overcast and the moons and stars were completely blanketed by clouds. A whispering wind gasped through the woods, only to be smothered by the incessant howl of wolves. The night was dark, exceptionally so, and the perfect night for Lucien to finally make his escape.

Lucien was struggling up the muddy riverbank. He was soaked, his clothes clung greedily to his body, and the mud was caked around his legs and arms. In his hand was the stolen dagger. He hated it, but it was his only weapon. The memory of what it was used for sat hunched at the back of his mind. When he escaped the compound, he beelined for this river and did not hesitate to stumble down the steep, sloping sides into the rushing water. He was glad it was Summer. The river took him with it as it flowed southwest toward civilization. He honestly didn't care where it took him, so long as it took him away from the compound, and it was just serendipity that he was being brought closer to Berleben.

"Mongrel!" It was Emperor, his voice magically amplified from somewhere in the trees behind him. Of course it was. That bastard always had it out for him. "You can't hide from me forever!"

Lucien struggled in the mud before he was finally able to pull himself up over the crumbling, grassy lip onto dry terrain. Any hope he had of losing any pursuit died when he rose to his feet and saw Emperor standing down river on the opposite bank. Lucien knew he was too far for any of Emperor's abilities to reach him, but he felt that spike of fear regardless. He remembered how cruel Emperor could be. He remembered what Emperor did to those Crownsguard that stopped them on the road months and months back. He remembered what Emperor did to Mayhem, how Mayhem had screamed while Aphrenia laughed. Lucien remembered how much pain Emperor inflicted upon him in the past few weeks. His shoulders and upper arms still burned with the memory of it.

Emperor pointed at him. Lucien didn't wait. He darted into the forest. Lucien hoped Emperor didn't have the bridle.

"Coward," shouted Emperor after him. His voice was magically amplified. "Treacherous bastard! Thief! I'm going to eat you!"

Behind him, a burning light flared and there came the wild bellow of a stallion.  _ Fuck! _ Lucien didn't bother looking back. He knew what was chasing him. The fire was quickly growing closer. Tree branches and twigs were snapping and cracking as Emperor closed the distance. Lucien wove and darted around trees, but it wasn't enough. Emperor was right behind him. Lucien could feel the heat from the mount. He could hear the nightmare panting and huffing and growling. Then he was being crushed. Pain flared across his back as burning hooves trampled him into the dirt. And then Emperor was on him before he could rise.

"Mongrel," snarled Emperor. He wrapped both powerful arms around Lucien's head, his massive hands gripping Lucien's horns. "Filth! I'm going to rip you to pieces!"

Lucien twisted beneath Emperor. He freed an arm, brought the dagger around, and plunged the blade into Emperor's unprotected shoulder. Emperor roared. His grip loosened. Lucien squirmed out from under Emperor and dragged himself toward the underbrush. The nightmare stomped the ground in from of him, nearly crushing his hands and cutting off his escape. Emperor grabbed Lucien's tail and yanked him back. Lucien shouted as the pain shot liquid hot up his spine.

"Dirty blooded mutt," Emperor's voice had become a bubbling snarl. "I can't wait to carve you up! I'm gonna see which parts of you are  _ real  _ tiefling and which parts of you aren't!"

Lucien kicked at Emperor's face. His bare feet bounced off the other tiefling's broken horns before finding their mark. Emperor's nose shattered across his face beneath Lucien's heel. He choked on a growl, his grip loosened around Lucien's tail, and Lucien kicked him once more before leaping to his feet. The nightmare reared and roared before him. Blazing hooves lashed out at Lucien and all he could do was cower and run. A hoof clipped Lucien in the shoulder as he fled. He went spiraling down and slammed hard against a tree, but managed to keep his footing. Growling against the pain, he pushed onward into the thicker parts of the woods.

"Damn you," shouted Emperor. "You fucking thief! You-you mongrel!"

* * *

Molly left a handful of gold coins on the counter and pulled a cheap bottle of liquor from the shelf behind the bar. His hands shook as he struggled to pop the cork. He was covered in a sheen of sweat, his breeches sticking uncomfortably to his legs and his hair clinging to his neck and face.

"Molly?" It was Yasha. She was standing at the bottom of the stairs, brows knotted with worry. Molly tried to force a smile. She said nothing, only strode across the common room of the Leaky Tap. Yasha opened the bottle of liquor for him and poured them both a shot. "Nightmares again?"

Molly slammed back the shot. It was awful. It burned and not in a good way. He coughed. Yasha waited patiently for him to recover.

"Fuck," he gasped. "I don't want to remember him."


	2. Chapter One - Symptoms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks once more to Mar, Seb, and Ali for the beta!

Early Autumn in Zadash brought with it not only the chill mornings but also news from the Xhorhasian front. New recruitment efforts were necessary to keep the Empire’s army healthy. There were posters and advertisements for the Righteous Brand on nearly every street corner, in taverns and inns, along the walls of public buildings, and in the Pentamarket. Town criers had made themselves a part of the recruitment efforts as well, advertising wages and benefits for becoming a member of the Righteous Brand. Curiously, they often left out many of the details of the war on the front.

That was how Caleb knew the war was going poorly. There was little news coming in from the front, but there were always whispers. Someone’s child or spouse suddenly stopped writing to them. Sometimes whole villages would seem to suddenly vanish. Merchants were rerouting their Autumn shipments away from the eastern border. Most telling to Caleb was the sudden increase in propaganda about the might of the Righteous Brand and King Bertrand Dwendal. There was much talk about the glory of war. Soldiers from the Righteous Brand who were wounded or killed in combat were held up as war heroes and their deeds inflated into stunning acts of heroism. Of course, it created a sudden spike in nationalism that brought a new sort of anxiety with it.

Caleb found himself not only worrying about their journey to Rexxentrum, but also about some of his not-quite-human companions. He could see the glares being leveled at Molly, Jester, and Fjord. Nott managed to avoid nearly all of it by virtue of her own incredible survivability, but that did not stop Caleb from worrying about anyone who looked at them all a bit too closely. He knew this was only going to get worse the deeper into the Empire and the closer to Rexxentrum they got. There was less than a week left to prepare for their journey and with each second that ticked by Caleb’s mind only served to remind how close they were to potential death.

“I can’t believe we missed the Harvest Close Festival,” grumbled Molly. He had been beside himself when he found out they missed it by two days after their exhausted return to Zadash. Some buildings still displayed sheafs of drying wheat and rye, wreaths, and colorful banners. “You know, I was really looking forward to it. Would’ve been fun to celebrate.”

“I know,” said Caleb. They were making their way to the Invulnerable Vagrant with Fjord. With everything going on, Caleb and Molly had yet to have That Talk. They had barely even spent any sort of quality alone time together. Caleb was frustrated on top of being anxious.

“Yeah, that job wasn’t supposed to take that long,” Fjord lamented. “Beau and Jes had this stuff planned for a big party for you.”

Molly beamed. “Really? That’s adorable.”

Caleb did not think Mollymauk was very good at hiding his emotions. He had been all smiles the last four days, but Caleb could see these smiles were the ones he put on to hide behind. Caleb could see the anxiety hidden behind them and perhaps even fear. Caleb still vividly remembered Molly’s outburst that morning in the common room of the Pillow Trove, how strongly Molly reacted to even the suggestion that they do something about the devil that had insinuated itself in his and Jester’s minds; how the argument between Molly and Beau had gone sour fast; how Molly bared his fangs. Caleb had been wondering about that for days. It was something he meant to talk to Molly about. He hoped his fears were unfounded.

At least the Invulnerable Vagrant was more or less the same.

"Well, hello there," one of the Pumats greeted them with a wide smile.

"Hello," exclaimed Molly. He excitedly bounced up to the counter, Caleb close behind. Fjord trailed away to the second Pumat to take a look at the weapons and armor. They had a shopping list with special requests from other members of their group, some practical and some impractical, and Fjord was determined to get this done quickly so they could join up with Beau, Nott, Yasha, and Jester to look at horses and carts. Caleb did not really blame Fjord for distrusting them.

"Well, well," Pumat said. "Sure didn't expect to see you back here, Mister Tealeaf." His soft eyes met Caleb's for a moment before returning to Molly, who was forcing a laugh.

"It would be a long story," interrupted Caleb. They did not really have time for socializing. "We are on a bit of a timetable." 

Pumat hummed. "Typical paper and ink order?"

"Ah, actually, I am in no more need of the high quality paper and ink," replied Caleb. "I have a special request for an item, two actually, and am willing to pay to have it rushed. I need two items that can help keep psychic influence from entering into someone's mind."

Pumat hummed. "We might be able to do something for you. That would depend on when you need it by."

"Two days."

"If you would just hold on for just a moment, I'll go fetch Pumat Prime for a consultation, alright?"

Caleb nodded and Pumat strode into the back room. Molly had wandered away during Caleb's brief conversation with Pumat to examine the enchanted jewelry. Caleb watched him for a moment, how his tail twitched in agitation. Molly and Jester had both been quiet when the group discussed purchasing an enchantment from Pumat that would potentially keep the devil from getting into their heads. Only Jester vocally announced her support. Molly had simply nodded. Caleb had no doubt there was a larger problem hidden beneath Molly's smile and fake laugh. Any mention of the devil that got in Molly's and Jester's heads was met with tension and stilted responses from both tieflings, but startlingly most often from Molly. Jester was afraid, certainly, but willing to work to find safeguards against any potential mental invasions and, though she did not always contribute to the discussion, was always at least present and paying attention. Molly was not. He was sullen and avoidant. Tense and anxious. It did far more than worry Caleb.

"Mollymauk," said Caleb. "This is an important safeguard."

Molly's tail lashed and then coiled around his ankle. "I know, Caleb." He turned and gave Caleb a strained smile. "We've talked about it just so much. I also need a replacement amulet. Maybe I should get something different...what do you think?"

Caleb was interrupted before he could even speak.

"You want to commission an enchantment?" Pumat Prime was always more forward and gruff than his simulacra.

"Ah, yes," said Caleb as he turned back to speak with Pumat Prime, silently resolving to speak with Mollymauk later. He quickly described the enchantment. The two enchantments would be pricey, especially rushed as they were, but Caleb was unconcerned with the gold. Pumat Prime assured him the complex enchantment would be completed within four days. Satisfied, Caleb shook Pumat Prime's hand and paid him the deposit.

Molly purchased some jewelry for himself and Yasha, as well as the potions and scrolls -- the consumables -- that were on his own list. Fjord completed his purchases as well. They would come back in a day with a cart to collect their new gear, and then grab the final pair of enchantments for the tieflings on their way out.

* * *

"This is the first time I actually am feelin' prepared," said Fjord. They were weaving through the thin crowd to the stables. "Prob'ly means everythin's gonna go to shit."

"Does it not always," asked Caleb.

Fjord chuckled. He was walking beside Caleb, Molly just behind the both of them. They kept to the sides of the road, out of the way of the carts and crowds. Fjord was friendly with the Crownsguard. He made sure to greet them politely each time they passed by any of the Crownsguard and only smiled at their glares. Caleb was glad for Fjord in times like these. He was good at making people like him, good at clearing away suspicion with just a smile. Perhaps Caleb did not need to worry so much about Fjord. But he certainly did need to worry about Molly. Caleb especially did not like the way Mollymauk drew looks, how noticeable he was amongst the humans, halflings, and dwarves. Tieflings were a rare sight, particularly lavender ones dressed like circus performers. Caleb knew the stories people told about tieflings, how the average citizen viewed them, because he had been raised on such stories in Blumenthal. Many of these stories were only retold and reinforced in Rexxentrum. Especially in Rexxentrum.

Caleb slowed to match his pace with Molly when they were passing by yet another group of Crownsguard. Molly smiled at him, tense and nervously tracing his fingers over the jade and copper snake coiled around the loop of his horn. That was a new anxious habit Molly had adopted in the past few days. It was nearly as much of a tell as the way his tail would twitch and flick before he wrapped it around his ankle. Caleb returned Molly’s smile, trying to make his more genuine. Gods, did it feel good to just walk beside Molly. Caleb found himself wanting desperately to reach out for Molly's hand, to hold it like he had that night. What a stupid mistake that had been. The memories would be fresh in Caleb's mind for weeks, his mind oh so helpfully supplying him with every second Molly smiled or laughed or even so much as looked at him. Now Caleb was always painfully aware of his feelings for Molly and how they would never be returned. This was just supposed to be something easy.

It took them nearly an hour to arrive at the stables. The Crownsguard had blocked off a side street that would have shortened their travel time. They offered no explanation as to why and only turned curious onlookers away from the street. When finally they arrived at the stables, Fjord was pleasantly surprised to see that Beau, Jester, and Yasha had everything in hand (Nott was conspicuously missing, but Caleb just had to trust her to keep out of trouble). They had already purchased horses, four of them after some negotiations, and also had a pair of covered wagons being prepared at the cartwright next door. Fjord and Caleb inspected the horses themselves. They were strong geldings, born and bred for pulling carts and wagons long distances, reliable and dressed in humble colors. The wagons were as sturdy as the horses and built with the skill that only experience brings. Outfitted with a small chest and a white canvas roof stretched over flexible ribbing, the wagons would certainly serve them well beyond just this job.

Nott met them just outside, her eyes glittering with excitement. She was practically hopping to catch up with them.

"Caleb," she cried. "Caleb, the Crownsguard!" She stopped to catch her breath.

"What's goin' on," asked Fjord. He was looking around nervously.

Nott gulped. "The Crownsguard! Did you see they were blocking off streets?" They all nodded. "It's two whole blocks!" She lowered her voice conspiratorially. "I snuck in! Something happened at the jeweler's shop."

"Which one?" asked Jester, her voice high with anxiety. Hers and Molly's tails were both twitching.

"The good one," Nott told her. Molly and Jester shared a nervous look. "I don't know what happened. It looked ugly, though. The windows were all broken and there were Crownsguard all up and down all the streets for  _ three blocks! _ "

"Could be looking for someone," said Beauregard. "Tensions are high. Could be some asshole who doesn't like tieflings."

"Let's just get back to the Leaky Tap," muttered Fjord. He was nervous. "Maybe we shouldn't be hangin’ around out here lookin' like we do."

No one argued. And with their errands complete, they returned to the Leaky Tap. Again, they had to avoid the streets still blocked off by Crownsguard. Molly walked beside Yasha with his hand in hers and Jester flanking his other side. Caleb found himself often glancing back at them, but mostly at Molly. Jester and Molly were exchanging words in Infernal and, to Caleb, it sounded laced with anxiety and fear. Their meal at the Leaky Tap was interspersed with tense conversation. All of them, it seemed, were listening for any news about what had happened at the jeweler's, about the war, anything that would hint at the general health of the Dwendalian Empire. Fjord was the first to head off to his room, starting the slow trickle of Caleb's tired companions to bed. Caleb intentionally caught Molly's eye and was pleased by the returned smile. Eventually they were alone at the table, empty plates and glasses spread between them, with only the dim candlelight to illuminate Mollymauk's gorgeous tattoos.

" _ Hallo _ , Mister Caleb," Molly said, his voice quiet but not quite a whisper. "It's been a moment, hasn't it?"

Caleb sighed. "I really meant to talk to you sooner, but you know." Molly's tail flicked behind him. He was smiling. "You are a nervous smiler, Mollymauk."

"You've told me."

Caleb took a breath. "I am worried, Mollymauk."

"This doesn’t sound like the 'talk' that you promised me, Caleb," interrupted Molly.

Caleb sighed. "No, but this is the most pressing. We are leaving soon." Molly leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. He seemed to be adopting some of Beauregard's mannerisms. "I am worried."

"You're always worried."

"Why are you," Caleb stopped abruptly, sighed once more, and began again. "This will be hard. It will be hard for you and for me."

"And Jester."

"Ja, and Jester. I just...I am no good at this. I just want you to know I am worried." Caleb sighed for a third time. "It is, it is -- we have to be careful. That is why I -- the earring I commissioned from Pumat is meant as a necessary precaution. I can understand, at least a bit, what it might be like to feel like you are not in control of yourself and...I saw you. You ate a devil's heart."

"Yeah, I remember that bit, thank you." Molly shifted in his seat. His arms were still folded and he was looking down at the table. He was scowling.

"Mollymauk."

"I know," he muttered. He paused. Caleb could practically hear him gathering his thoughts. "I'm being a shit, aren't I? You know, I was hoping you'd put your foot down about Rexxentrum. Something about it you obviously hate, I don't know what that is and maybe you'll tell me one day, but I was just hoping you'd tell us all 'no way, I'm not going.' You know?"

"Mollymauk," said Caleb again, his voice carefully measured. "I do not think this is something we can avoid."

Molly finally looked at him. The tiefling was smiling a sad smile. "You're probably right. Wouldn't it be great if we could?"

Molly's eyes were searching him. Caleb could see the slight flicker of his eyelids and the -- wait, Molly's eyes were  _ not _ a solid jewel-red. The ring of his sclera was ever so slightly darker as well as the faint pin-point of his pupil. How had Caleb never noticed? How often had Caleb looked at Molly's face, mapping all the tattoos and piercings and scars; and following the angle of his cheekbones and the cut of his jaw; and how Molly looked so gorgeous with painted lips and that ostentatious, gold eyeliner? Caleb wondered what else about Molly he had missed. What other details about this person that he-- that he really enjoyed spending his time with had he missed? What else about Mollymauk Tealeaf did he not know?  _ A lot _ , he told himself. A healthy part of him wondered how much he really knew Molly at all.

"Caleb," Molly murmured, his voice only audible because of how empty the Leaky Tap was at this point in the night. "I, uh, what d'ya say we avoid that conversation, huh? Let's avoid some more. Let's not worry about it. At least for tonight."

Caleb wanted that. He had been craving time alone with Molly for days. Caleb missed Mollymauk's smile, his laugh, the taste of his mouth and the sweat on his lavender skin.

"I would like that," said Caleb carefully. He paused. "We have to talk."

Molly sighed. "Can it wait?" His tail was twitching anxiously. "We'll have plenty of time on the road."

"We will talk first," Caleb told him. Molly frowned. "But we will go up to my room, ja? This is important. For both of us."

Caleb rose from his seat, tucking his book away and collecting his coat as he rose. Frumpkin mewled in protest as he was forced to hop to the floor. Molly took the jug of cider with him as he followed Caleb across the room to the stairs. His tail was still twitching and Caleb heard him sigh softly from behind him.

A pair of human men were standing at the top of the stairs. Both of them were flushed red with alcohol and holding several tankards, seemingly about to make their way back down to the common room.

“Serves them right,” one of them said. “What else do they expect?”

“Aye,” the other agreed. “Fool should’ve just kept going ‘til he hit the Menagerie Coast.”

Caleb ducked his head as he approached them. “Pardon me.”

“Oh, sorry mate,” one of them apologized as both men moved aside. Caleb slipped between them with his head lowered purely on instinct. He felt them tense behind him. Caleb turned quickly. Both the men were watching Molly with silent glares.

“Evening, folks,” greeted Molly with manufactured cheer. His tail was giving him away, at least to Caleb. Molly was nervous. Stiff. Muscles tensed for a fight. “If you’ll just excuse me.” They barely moved for him. Molly squeezed between the two mean, just brushing against the both of them. He made a face at Caleb once the men were behind them. 

“Another one,” muttered one of them.

“Aye, this place is going to hell.”

The first one laughed. “Good one!”

Caleb quickly walked down the hall to his room. He did not like how those men were watching him.

Caleb wasted no time unlocking the door to his room and pulling Molly after him. Frumpkin darted inside just in time for Caleb to close the door and lock it behind his familiar.

“They were charming,” Molly grumbled. He set the jug of cider on the rickety desk beside Caleb’s bed and dropped his coat onto the chair with its uneven legs. Caleb wasted no time, not even to admire how Molly’s billowy shirt hung loose on his lithe frame, and quickly produced the silver thread from his pouch. This would be first, and then he would cast tiny hut, and then they would be perfectly safe from any threat. Especially from those men in the hallway, or from whoever was responsible for that attack on the jeweler, or from those Crownsguard that Caleb was  _ certain _ spit at Molly’s boots yesterday, or from the cult, or from…

“Caleb, relax,” said Molly gently. He squeezed the back of Caleb’s neck, let his nails scratch a bit at Caleb’s hair.

Caleb sighed. “There is a lot to worry about.”

“We’re still in Zadash, sweet thing.”

“Let me do this.”

Molly watched him for a moment, an unreadable range of emotions flitting across his face before he released Caleb and stepped away. Caleb got to work. He barely noticed when Molly removed his scimitars and wrapped them in his coat; or when Molly poured the both of them a drink before drinking both himself and then pouring another round before drinking that as well. Caleb was grateful for the cramped rooms here. They were the perfect size to fit within the bubble of his tiny hut. With a sigh, he rose to his feet. Molly was watching him from the chair, his legs crossed, and his chin resting in his hand. His tail was slowly sweeping across the worn, wooden floorboards, the new, gold ring pierced through the spade of his tail knocking against their uneven edges.

“Finished?” Molly asked. Caleb nodded silently. “Then would you please take off your coat and your books and have a seat?”

Caleb obeyed. He removed his coat and his holsters, wrapped the books reverently in the coat, and then carefully set the entire bundle down on the bed. Then he sat on the bed across from Molly, who immediately pressed a glass of cider into Caleb’s hand. Frumpkin leapt into his lap and curled up against his stomach. Caleb took a moment to drink the cider. It was dry and sweet, and reminded him of Autumns from a time beyond the fog.

“Mollymauk,” said Caleb. “I, um, well, you have been acting a bit strangely, and we don’t…”

“Do you think that thing is still in my head?” Mollymauk interrupted. He was digging into his coat where it sat on the table, trying to feign casualness, but his tail gave him away. It was twitching in the way it did when Molly was irritated or angry.

“I think that it is a possibility,” said Caleb carefully. “You have been strange since we arrived in Zadash and I do not know how much of it is-- is the nerves or how much could be Akerion.” Molly was not looking at him. The tiefling pulled out a short-stemmed pipe -- perfect for travel and surprisingly simple in design -- and a small pouch, brightly colored and beaded. Caleb watched Molly tug the pouch open and stuff the pipe with a pinch of dusky, green leaves from the pouch. “Umm, Molly, we have to be careful.”

“What?” Molly finally looked at him, a brow cocked. “About this?” He tilted his head toward the stuffed pipe. “I got this from an apothecary and Beau was with me. We both checked it out. It’s perfectly safe.”

Caleb sighed. Was Molly being intentionally avoidant? “No, Mollymauk. I mean about…”

“Do you do this with Jester?” Molly interrupted him once more. “Or am I the only one who’s special enough?”

Caleb frowned and looked down into his half-empty glass of cider. He had not talked to Jester, but why would he? She had gone back to herself in a way Molly had not. Jester had an incredible ability to bounce back. And Molly was...perhaps Molly was special in a way Jester was not. At least maybe to Caleb.

“No, Molly,” he sighed. “I saw you -- I found you in the woods.” Molly huffed and leaned back in the chair. “You had blood all over you, that woman’s throat was...gone, and I saw you eat…”

“Not this shit again,” snapped Molly. “You know, Jester still has nightmares. I don’t know how you didn’t notice. Everyone knows about it. You have to understand, and I know you will because you’re the smartest person I’ve ever met, that this thing is not just -- it’s not just me, Caleb. I’m not special.”

“You,” began Caleb. He stopped and swallowed, pushing his hair back from his face. He sighed. Molly  _ was _ special. There was no one as special as Molly. Caleb was in love with Mollymauk. He could not deny this to himself any longer, especially not when he considered that past few months: how he had fought to bring Molly back, how much he had put into nursing Molly back to health in Hupperdook, how desperate those handful of days he had been in that village and that forest. It all made Caleb feel like a complete fool. “Mollymauk, I, we are friends, are we not? I can be worried about you.”

“This isn’t really the talk I’d hoped we would have.” There was Molly’s humorless laugh. He lit his pipe, the pungent smell of the burning herbs quickly filling the space between him and Caleb, and then abruptly rose from his chair.

“Mollymauk,” said Caleb, startled. What had he done?

“I’ve made it clear how I feel about being treated like this,” said Molly flatly. His expression was unreadable, masked by that nervous smile Caleb was so familiar with. He tugged on his coat. “When you actually want to talk about something that doesn’t make me into someone special, I’ll be around.”

Caleb did not stop Molly. Not even when the tiefling seemed to hesitate a moment before stepping out into the hallway. 


	3. Chapter Two: Ghost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to Mar and Bas for the beta!

Molly needed to be outside. It was too stifling in the tavern. The walls were too close together and the ceiling was too low and it was far too hot. And he really,  _ really _ didn’t like the way Caleb had been looking at him like he was delicate. Normally, Molly enjoyed any sort of attention lavished on him, especially from Caleb, but that worried look Caleb was giving him just rankled him. He needed to see the moons and feel the cool air of the Autumn night. Molly tried to leave quietly, he didn't want to wake anyone up, but his boots still clicked against the creaky floorboards. In the common room, those men that had frightened Caleb were still drinking. Molly could hear them loudly and drunkenly talking from the stairs. He paid them no mind beyond noting the distance between them and him as he swiftly walked to the exit. It was good he remembered to grab his swords. There was no reason to be unprepared. 

He stepped out into the breezy night, letting the door to the Leaky Tap creak shut behind him. The light wind was calming and it was good to be beneath the moons again. His head began to float pleasantly as he puffed on his pipe. Perhaps Molly had overreacted. Caleb was only worried about him, and Molly’s wizard had every right to be worried. Molly saw the hurt written clearly across Caleb’s face before he left Caleb’s room. Shit. He should probably apologize. Maybe in the morning. Molly had been an ass. He had been a whole ass, honestly, the past couple of days. His friends had only ever cared about him and he’d responded with bitterness. Really, Molly should be happy that his friends cared so much. He should especially be happy, ecstatic even, that Caleb cared this much. Enough to repeatedly start awkward conversation after awkward conversation with him. Molly remembered how flighty Caleb had been in the beginning, in the first few weeks he’d known the man, and he could clearly see the progress Caleb had made in his absence. Yep. Molly had been an ass. Especially when he compared his response to Jester’s. And, shit, how Yasha had just frowned at him when they were all sitting around talking about taking safeguards against “psychic intrusions” and Molly could feel himself glaring.

He watched the moons, two halves in the cold sky, and sighed. It seemed like his thoughts were always clearer under the open night sky. The Moonweaver always helped him sort out his thoughts. Molly would talk to Caleb. He could explain what’s been going on in his own head -- which had nothing to do with that devil, of course. He was just frightened. He hated to think about what that thing could do to him. Molly wanted to be himself. He had only ever wanted to be himself. Yasha, he knew, understood that (he’d apologize to her anyway), and he felt like it would be easy to make Caleb understand as well. Caleb was smart. He could maybe even tell Caleb about the weird dreams he’d been having. Should he, though? Only Yasha and Jester knew about them, these dreams that were like he walking in someone else’s skin, remembering things that happened to a different person. He supposed those dreams were another reason why he’d been so irritable. Almost every night he was wandering down the lanes of a stranger’s thoughts and memories. Maybe Caleb would -- no, that was just a bad idea. Best to keep his wizard out of the loop. Molly didn’t know how Caleb, nervous and panicky Caleb, would react to that revelation. Jester had practically screamed when he told her. No. No way, he couldn’t tell Caleb about this. He couldn’t tell Caleb any more than he could tell his wizard how much he loved him. Shit. There was that ache in Molly’s chest again. He needed to be with Caleb. Why had he left? He needed to see those gorgeous, tortured, blue eyes; to feel those tangled, red curls between his fingers; to hear his sexy voice. Shit. The night was so beautiful. The night sky was so perfect and the stars were so glittery and gorgeous. And Caleb wasn’t here to share it with him.  _ Shit.  _ He needed to share this beautiful, Autumn night with Caleb. He needed to stop being such an ass.

Molly snuffed his pipe and tucked it away in one of the many pockets of his coat, and took one more look up at the moons before he swung back into the tavern. The men were gone. Good. One less thing to worry about.

"Molly?" Yasha was awake. Molly nearly lost his balance as he swung around to look at her. She was standing at the bottom of the stairwell, armed as always, and apparently wide awake. Odd. But Molly was happy to see her. He'd always be happy to see her.

"Yasha," he said cheerfully and with a big grin. "You're up early."

Yasha shrugged. "Well, it's been hard to sleep. We're leaving tomorrow and it's just...I'm ready to go, but also not?" She paused. "Are you smoking?" Molly felt his grin widen. "Why aren't you sharing?" 

Molly laughed. They both went outside into the sudden, early morning. Molly could have sworn he was just looking at the moons. He abstained from the pipe, let Yasha puff away to her heart's content, and was happy just to watch his friend enjoy herself.

"Hey, Yash," he said finally just as the sun was beginning to crest over the eaves and chimneys of Zadash. "Do you think I may have overreacted?"

"Probably," she replied. "But to what?"

Molly quickly explained what had happened the previous night with hardly any wandering thoughts or tangents. Yasha just nodded along and occasionally dragged on the pipe as she listened. 

"I think you might have," she said. "If you think you did, then you should probably talk to Caleb. And wear that damn earring."

Molly sighed. "I'm just...I'm scared."

"I know. Me too. Not like you are, but I understand a bit. You know."

He did know. He nodded. They sat in companionable silence for a stretch. Molly was always glad to just be with Yasha. He never felt the need to fill their silences with his usual babbling. Eventually, his typical restlessness caught up with them, and he rose to his feet from where they sat on the front stoop of the Leaky Tap.

“I need to walk,” he said by way of explanation. Yasha silently rose with him, snuffing the pipe and glancing back to the tavern. “I’ll talk to him later. Don’t wanna go first thing in the morning.”

They walked through the early morning streets of Zadash. Molly led Yasha on a wandering path with no direction, just turned and twisted down whatever streets and alleys caught his fancy, as his senses slowly began to clear. They stopped at a street vendor selling sausages along one of the main roads. Molly felt better with his belly full of that salty, greasy, mystery meat. It was easier to ignore the suspicious glances from the Crownsguard as he wandered the streets with a full belly and his closest, most trusted friend. He was determined to make this a good day. It could be their last for a while.

* * *

Caleb woke alone. His internal clock told him it was later than he normally woke up, three hours after dawn instead of his usual right at dawn. He stared at the ceiling and traced the lines of the rough hewn wood and bare timbers with his eyes as that old, familiar exhaustion settled deep in his bones. Already he could tell this was one of those days where he could literally lay in bed all day. He had had those days before -- many times -- but they had all but disappeared in recent months. He had hoped he had been done with them, as foolish as that thought was. This is what he deserved, being alone, though he did not want it. He was not strong enough to accept this punishment. He wanted Mollymauk. He wanted Mollymauk, but he had chased the tiefling away with his own fears and anxieties. Caleb did not really blame Molly for leaving him alone. Molly was not looking for anything too serious with Caleb. He wanted something easy and Caleb had made it difficult.

He was in bed for another hour before Nott came knocking at his door. Caleb forced himself up, forced the motivation to finally summon Frumpkin, and forced his feet across the room to the door, snatching his coat as he did. The pitcher of cider Molly brought up with him last night was still sitting on the desk alongside the half-full cups. It was a reminder to Caleb of how abruptly Molly left him last night. The tiefling was obviously fed up with him. Caleb let Nott in his room.

“Good morning, Caleb,” she greeted him, subdued. Her eyes were full of worry and she was doing a poor job at hiding it.

“Good morning, Nott,” said Caleb back. He stepped aside to let her in, but she lingered outside the door. Her eyes flicked off him and quickly searched the room, looking for something.

“Why don’t you come downstairs and have breakfast? We saved you some bacon. You can work on your spells at the table while you eat instead of being alone up here.”

“Ja,” he sighed. “Okay.” He stepped out into the hallway and followed Nott down to the common room. Beauregard, Fjord, and Jester were all sitting around the table, evidently waiting for him. But...he quickly scanned the room. There was no sign of Molly or Yasha.

“Hey, man,” Beau called out to him as she kicked out a chair from across from her at the table. “Good to see  _ you _ at least decided to stick around.”

“It’s okay,” sighed Jester. “Yasha told me last night they were just going for a walk and they’d be back.”

“Well, they’re not! And you saw how sketched out Molly was. He doesn’t want anything to do with this shit.”

Jester frowned. Caleb did not approach the table. He stood at the bottom of the stairs as he listened to this revelation.  _ I did this. _

“He-they left,” asked Caleb, fighting to keep his voice level. “When was this?”

Beau shrugged angrily. “Last night? Dunno! Jester talked to them, apparently, but she didn’t bother telling any of us. Was hoping maybe you could shed some light on this whole situation since you talked to Molly last night.”

Caleb shook his head. “I-I don’t…”

“Stop it, Beau,” hissed Jester.

“Let’s just give them some time,” said Fjord calmly. “They said they’d be back, right? If they’re not ‘round here in another hour or so, Jester, you can just give them a call? You know how Yasha can be sometimes and Molly’s been wigged out. Probably just needs a bit of a break. I don’t think either of ‘em would just up and leave like that. Not when we got some important work to do, at least.”

Jester nodded. “They’ll be back,” she said with determination that Caleb was sure was traced with a heavy amount of desperation. From what he was able to gather from what little he talked with Molly about, Molly and Jester had been spending a lot of time together lately. Caleb was able to surmise that they had some lingering fears from dealing with the devil in their heads and anxiety about the future.

Caleb took a steadying breath and finally sat down at the table. They all talked for an hour, tensely, while he picked at his food. Anxiety was rotting out his insides. Molly was gone, had left with his closest companion, Yasha, and Caleb doubted they would return. At least not for a long time. Yasha had a tendency to disappear for long stretches and the fact that Molly had left with her was damning. Caleb had essentially chased the tiefling off. Caleb had ruined everything. Nott gently nudged him, urging him to eat, and Caleb took a few bites to placate her, but most of his food went cold and untouched. When that one, long hour finally passed, Jester wasted no time beginning her sending spell.

“Hey, Molly,” she began. “We were just wondering if you’re okay and what you’re doing. Is Yasha still with you? It’s okay if you want to take-oh, oops.” She waited a moment, then nodded. “He’s okay,” she told them. “He’s with Yasha and they’ll be back later today.”

Beauregard scoffed, obviously not believing a word of it. Caleb had to agree with her. Molly had left with Yasha and was not planning on coming back.

* * *

Molly didn't expect to get into a fight today. Especially not with a handful of dragonborn.

"Good afternoon, folks," he said with a stiff grin as they approached him and Yasha. Molly was immediately put on guard by the dragonborns' posture; how they walked with one clawed hand on a weapon. "There something I can help you with?"

"Lookin' for a purple tiefling," one of them said, a burly warrior in clanging armor who was obviously their leader. Her hand was wrapped around the handle of her blade slung across her back. "And you sure do look like a purple tiefling to me."

Molly hummed. "That's a common mistake. I'm actually  _ lavender. _ It's not quite the same color."

She scowled at him. "Don't be a smartass. You're coming with us."

"I don't think I am. That's not really on my schedule."

The dragonborn drew steel. Yasha mirrored them and Molly followed her lead.

"Suit yourself," said the dragonborn leader.

* * *

  
  


This was akin to desperation. They could get through to neither Molly nor Yasha. No sending spells would reach them. And Jester’s scrying was blocked by something. They followed Mollymauk and Yasha’s trail through the streets of Zadash, asking guards and townsfolk what they may have seen. They wandered well off the main roads and thoroughfares, and down the winding side streets and alleyways, until the trail went cold.

_ Maybe he is dead. _ Caleb’s mind helpfully supplied him with the darkest thoughts it could muster throughout.  _ He is back in the ground again. _ Caleb scratched at his arms and forced those thoughts away. He willingly let Nott take his hand when she reached for it. They were waiting outside the Evening Nip for their friends. The last plan they thought of was contacting the Gentleman and seeing if perhaps he might be able to help. Finally,  _ finally _ , the door swung open and out stepped a black-furred tabaxi in shadowed cloaks. Cree shot him a shy smile, continued past him, and then stopped in the middle of the street. Caleb met eyes with Beauregard when she appeared, looking frustrated; she only gave him a shrug.

“We don’t really have much of a choice here, man.” She grumped.

Caleb watched Cree remove the glass stopper from the vial. The blood was jewel-red in the early morning light and still somehow fresh and running in spite of its near year in storage. Caleb was unfamiliar with blood magic, something that saw much more use outside of the Dwendalian Empire and even in those places it was still somewhat rare. He only had vague knowledge of its use and purpose by organizations such as the Claret Order. So he watched with clinical fascination as Cree dipped a claw into the vial, collected a small bead of Molly's blood on the sharp point of a claw, and held it a loft.

"This will point the way," said Cree. "Blood does not lie."

She hummed and pressed the point of her claw against her lips in what could easily be interpreted as an intimate act. Mollymauk's blood began to faintly glow, and them stretch and thin. Jester and Nott gasped. The blood extruded out and away from Cree, rapidly pulled thinner than spider's silk until it vanished from sight. Cree frowned.

“He is far,” she said quietly.

“We can get horses,” Fjord suggested. “Just got the one now, but we can get some more. Prob’ly should just ditch the cart, it would slow us down. Uh, how far do we have to go?”

“It is vague. Lucien’s blood tells me only the direction and that he is not close. It is like seeing a mountain from a distance. You know the direction and that is not close, but not exactly how not close.”

Beauregard was scowling furiously at Cree. Caleb knew she hated “Lucien.”

“We’ll get horses,” Fjord said.

By midday they had acquired horses and were on the road. Cree had to stop them multiple times to recast her spell. They made frustratingly little progress before they were forced to stop for the night.

* * *

Caleb could not sleep. This was familiar, this separation. It had happened before too many times. How often would they have to go through this? The first time had led to so much pain, had led directly to Molly’s death. If Caleb had not been such a coward then, it would have been very different. And then bringing Molly back. The cost that Caleb had paid for that he hoped had absolved him of his cowardice, had repaired at least some of the damage done.

But it ultimately did not matter.

Molly was gone again, both him and Yasha. And it was once again Caleb’s fault. He had caused this to happen. His actions had caused Molly to leave them. His actions had caused Molly to get into trouble again. Maybe even die again. Or perhaps worse. Caleb was not so certain they would be able to succeed in reuniting this time. If his suspicions were correct and the cult was involved…

He could not even name all of his fears. There was so much these devil-worshippers could do to them, to Molly and to Yasha. The memories of what Akerion had done to Molly and Jester in the forest were fresh and lurid in Caleb’s mind. And Molly was without the protection of the earring of mind-shielding that Caleb was keeping safe in his pocket. Molly’s fate could be so much worse than death. He could lose himself completely. Be someone no longer himself. Someone who was not Molly would inhabit that body again.

And it was all Caleb’s fault.

"I am worried as well," he heard Cree's supple voice from where she was keeping watch opposite Beau by the fire. Caleb sighed. "He has gone from me many times." She paused. "And yet every time I find him again. We will find him again, I have no doubt. If Lucien has fallen into trouble, he will get out of it. He is good at that. Lucien is a survivor and I learned to survive from him."

Beau huffed a laugh. "Yeah...sounds like we have a similar relationship with him." She glanced back at Caleb. "You know, uh, Cree, he doesn't-- he doesn't really go by Lucien anymore. He goes by Mollymauk. But, like, you're right. You're probably right. He's definitely a survivor and we'll for sure find him."

Caleb pulled his coat tighter around his shoulders. He needed to believe them. He had to push away the thoughts that told him Mollymauk was gone forever. That this time, they would not find him again. That this time, they would not be able to bring him back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone for the comments and kudos! They're encouraging!


	4. Gorgon Blood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's some light (?) torture in this chapter, but it's nothing too graphic.
> 
> Thanks to Mar for the beta and thanks to everyone who left comments and kudos!

"Grab his horns," shouted Emperor.

Lucien snarled and twisted in Ancient's and Ghost's combined grasps. They had his arms stretched with both their hands wrapped around his wrists. Lucien wasn't nearly as strong as the pair of tieflings combined, but that wouldn't stop him from trying to escape. Immortal, standing in front of him and not daring to look him in the eye as if that would save him from Lucien's abilities, made a blind lunge for Lucien's horns. With a roar, Lucien let loose a blood-curse and Immortal screamed as his eyes went dark and blood poured down his cheeks.

"Damn you," he spat.

Emperor huffed in exasperation and stomped around to Lucien's back. Lucien struggled to turn and watch Emperor as he disappeared behind him, but Ghost and Ancient had him held taut. Taking advantage of Lucien's distraction, Immortal finally managed to grab hold of his horns. Immortal jerked Lucien's head towards him to straighten his neck out painfully. Lucien choked back a gasp.

"Last chance," growled Emperor. Lucien could feel the heel of his boot pressing threateningly across the middle of his tail. "Where is she?"

"You know he won't tell us." Lucien heard Aphrenia's sibilant voice from the corner of the room. She was always there, somehow. Lurking and unseen. "Stop wasting my time."

Emperor snorted. His boot left Lucien's tail and then, with a grunt, Emperor stomped with both feet across the middle of Lucien's tail. Lucien screamed. Then fists were raining down across his bare back and shoulders.

* * *

“I’m sorry,” said Gentle. He was across from Molly, bound in thick ropes and lashed to the cage in the rocking cart. There was a thick, metal wire wrapped around his neck. “I don’t know how they found me.”

Molly ignored him. He couldn’t move, could barely breathe with the gag forced into his mouth. The weight of the cold metal around his throat was beyond uncomfortable. He didn’t know where they’d taken Yasha. Didn’t know where they were going. He could barely remember how they’d ended up in this shit. It was too hard to think around the pounding in his head, the dried blood that plastered his hair to his scalp, and the stiff, knotting ache in his muscles. He could remember the dragonborn approaching him and Yasha in Zadash, the anxiety of being surrounded so suddenly. There were flashes of violence. A fight. Then he was in a room. And then the nightmares came. Lucien was haunting him. Now they were moving with painful speed, far faster than any wagon really should be moving. Molly could hear the horses panting even from back in the wagon.

“Not much of a warrior, you know.” Gentle was still talking. His face was completely battered and Molly didn’t like the way Gentle’s tail was bent. “Not like you at least. Worked as a bouncer for a while, but never held a weapon in my life. Should’ve just kept my fucking mouth shut. What’re a few punches anyway? Least Eriyel got away.”

Molly scowled. Gentle just kept talking. Nervous talking, most like. It was just something to fill the silence. Molly was guilty of the same thing, but right now he really did not want to have to concentrate on anyone else’s words. His whole body hurt too much for this shit. He didn’t know for how long they traveled before they stopped. The black-scaled dragonborn climbed into the back of the wagon, his green eyes passing over them both.

“Still breathin’,” he growled. “Good. Same as last night. We’re movin’ you and you’re not gonna make too much of a fuss.” His eyes lingered on Molly. “‘Specially not you, unless you want a broken tail like the other one.”

The dragonborn stood over them for perhaps several minutes before another dragonborn, this one also black-scaled, joined him. The two of them dragged Gentle out of the wagon, still in the cage, and left Molly alone. After no deliberation, Molly began to try to work his way out of the ropes. Even if he could just loosen them a bit, it might give him enough of a head start on escaping these assholes, finding Yasha, and definitely cracking some skulls. He wasn’t embarrassed to admit that he had a fair amount of skill in escaping ropes. It seemed to be some latent part of him, one of those things he just instinctively  _ knew _ how to do, like fighting or eating or drinking or fucking. Molly knew how to fight and fuck and escape ropes. He kept one ear turned toward the back of the wagon, listening for any movement as he worked the ropes loose. He stopped when he heard the slightest sound and schooled his breathing into something more relaxed. The same two dragonborn climbed into the wagon then. They went to either side of the cage, one in front of Molly and the other behind, and said a few words to each other in Draconic. The one behind Molly growled and the ropes binding Molly to the cage tightened painfully. Molly bared his teeth against the pain. The dragonborn grabbed his horn through the bars and yanked his head back.

“Thought I told ye to behave,” the dragonborn snarled.

With that, the dragonborn hoisted the cage up and dragged Molly out of the wagon. They let the cage drop to the dusty roadside. The sudden jolt sent pain flaring up along Molly’s arms and backside. He winced against the blinding brightness of the setting sun. Molly forced his eyes open and scanned the area as quickly as he could as the dragonborn lugged him around. He didn’t know how much time he had. Trees. A winding road. A roadside inn. Four wagons, all of them cleverly disguised to look like merchant carts and vardos. Armed guards, most of them, but not all, black-scaled dragonborn, starting a fire. Molly could smell mud and water and horse shit. The clink of armor and the laughter of the guards. Something about this roadway and this inn was familiar. Molly was sure he’d traveled this way before, but he couldn’t remember exactly when. His memory was a funny thing, especially now.

The dragonborn carried him through the makeshift camp, around the side of the stable built up against the inn, and to the back of the inn. They set him down roughly on the ground. Molly twisted his head around and watched as one of the dragonborn opened up the cellar doors. They dragged him roughly down the small stairs into the cellar, and then across the cellar to a second set of doors set at the back of the cellar behind a massive cask. Then he was carried through this door, down yet another set of winding stairs, and through another door. Molly gasped in shock when he beheld the place beyond the door. He was in a large antechamber with a twisting staircase leading up to a balcony and perhaps half a dozen doorways radiating out from the bottom floor like spokes on a wagon. The room was lit with softly glowing magical lights that reflected off the marble flooring. Proudly displayed as the centerpiece of the marble floor was an image of a dragon with five heads, each head a different color and shape. Molly knew enough to be afraid of that image. He was in deep shit. The dragonborn dragged him across the antechamber to one of the doorways; then down a flight of stairs, both of them huffing from his weight, and finally dropped him in a room with an iron door.

It was dark. Cold. Stank of mildew and rot; vaguely of the iron-tang of blood. Molly was thankful for his darkvision. He could see the gray shapes of the dragonborn moving around him beyond the bars of his cage, the walls of the dungeon they had dropped him in, and also the cage in which Gentle was confined maybe ten or so feet away. One of the dragonborn bent down to face Molly, his eyes staring blindly in Molly’s general direction. Good to know.

“Behave,” the dragonborn growled slowly at him. “Maybe we’ll take that gag off. No one can find you down here. Bricks in the walls are mixed with gorgon blood. No use tryin’ to escape.”

The dragonborn left with a slam of the iron door. Molly could hear keys clinking and a bolt being driven home beyond the door. He waited for a painfully long stretch of time before he began working on the ropes once more.

“What are you doing?” Gentle whispered.

Molly huffed. He couldn’t answer with the gag in his mouth.

“Do you have a plan for if those assholes come back and see what you’re doing?”

Molly rolled his eyes. He’d just have to ignore Gentle for the time being. He didn’t have his weapons or his coat or any of his gear, but he could still fight. The rope could be a potential weapon and the dragonborn couldn’t see in the darkness. Molly could hide in a corner beyond the door and ambush them. Just needed to get these damn ropes off and figure out how to get out of this damn cage. It took forever, but eventually Molly got the ropes off. The skin around his wrists was chafed and raw, and felt somewhat bloodied. He’d had worse. With a snarl, he ripped the gag out of his mouth and coughed.

“Shit,” he gasped through chapped lips and a dry mouth.

“Wow, I didn’t think you could do it.”

Molly reached for the lock on the cage, tested it with his hand and felt around for the hole with his fingers. He missed Nott. Molly stuck his hand into one of the secret pockets hidden along the waistband of his pants, hoping the dragonborn hadn't found the tools he had hidden there just in case something like this should ever happen to him. He stuck the picks into the lock, hoped they were the correct shape, and tested the lock as well as he could blind. Honestly, he wasn’t that skilled with something like this, but what was the harm in trying? He could feel Gentle’s eyes on him and could hear the other tiefling’s nervous breathing.

There were footsteps.

“Fuck,” hissed Molly.

“Hurry up!”

“I’m doing my best here, alright?”

The locks on the door clanged and clicked as they were being undone. With a whisper of well-greased metal, the door swung open and light flooded the room.

“What the fuck d’you think you’re doing!” Shouted a dragonborn as he hurried across the room. Molly pulled his hands back just in time to avoid the kick. Remembering the threat leveled against him earlier, he tucked his tail up against his stomach as well. He used the motion to conceal his hands as he hid the picks once more. “How many times do I gotta tell you, you stupid asshole, to  _ behave? _ ”

“I’m bad at following directions.” Molly sniped back at the dragonborn. “Always have been.”

The dragonborn reached into the cage for him. Molly shoved himself back against the opposite side. The footsteps behind him quickened and the flickering torchlight grew closer. Molly bared his teeth at the dragonborn and let a rumbling, feral snarl roll through his chest. The dragonborn reached for the heavy, metal cords wrapped around Molly’s throat. Molly didn’t hesitate. With a snap of his jaws he had the dragonborn’s clawed fingers between his teeth. The dragonborn screamed. Blood filled Molly’s mouth. There were hands on his shoulders and horns, pulling him back. Molly clamped down tighter for a moment, just to hear the dragonborn’s pained wail, before releasing him. The dragonborn fell back, clutching his bleeding fingers against his stomach. Molly spit out the blood in his mouth with a grimace. Another of the guards was laughing.

"Watch out, lads," laughed the guard. His accent marked him as dwarven. "This one bites!"

Another dragonborn entered Molly's view. He recognized this one. It was the female dragonborn, their evident leader, still geared up for combat. She set a lantern down on the floor between Molly and Gentle and then crouched down in front of Molly.

"And here we was thinkin' of feedin' you." She smiled threateningly at him. "Why can't you just behave like the other one?"

Molly returned her smile. "Never really was something I was good at, behaving. I'm a bit of a brat."

She chuckled. "Admirable, if stupid." She turned her attention to the dwarf. "Bind him. Nice an' tight."

She rose to her feet. Molly felt his arms pulled back and once more lashed to the bars of the cage. The ropes, more than last time, we pulled painfully tight and bit into his arms.

"You know who we are?" The leader asked Molly. He frowned at her. "Are you familiar with the Caustic Heart?"

Molly laughed nervously. "Somewhat, I suppose. But what could you possibly want with someone like me?"

"An exchange." She grinned. "Someone's been lookin' for you and they have somethin' we want. All you have to do is relax and behave, and in a handful o' days, you'll never see us again."

"I look forward to it."

She chuckled. "So do I."

"Alright," said the dwarf. Molly felt the ropes tug against him as the dwarf tested them. "That's done!"

The leader jerked her head in Gentle's direction. She kept her eyes on Molly as the dwarf trundled over to Gentle and undid his binds. Another guard Molly hadn't seen yet appeared with a platter of two steaming bowls and two pitchers. The dwarf took one of each and set them down in front of Gentle's cage.

"Too bad," said the dwarf. He was grinning at Molly. "Should've behaved. Coulda had your hands free. Coulda had somethin' to eat."

The guards watched Gentle eat and drink. Gentle kept his eyes down, seemingly focused on his meal. Molly didn't let them see how hungry he was. Once Gentle was done with his meal, the guards collected the bowl and pitcher and began to file out. The leader lingered for a moment, glaring down at Molly, before she too left. Molly craned his neck around to watch them. The dwarf closed the door behind the guards and sat down with a sigh, facing Molly and Gentle. Molly huffed.

This would be difficult. 

* * *

"Where did you say you were from?"

"Don't really have a home," replied Lucien. "Just came up to the Empire for work."

"So you're southern."

Lucien smiled at Moth. She was smart.

"You could say that."

Moth hailed the barkeep. This was Lucien's fifth night in Berleben, his second month within the Empire, and also the first tiefling he'd met. Behemoth, or "Moth" as he now called her, had approached him in the street, asked him to join her for a drink, and of course Lucien agreed. She had a pretty smile and strong hands with scars on her dark forearms. And  _ good gods _ did it feel good to talk in Infernal again. Moth ordered another round of that delicious, Zemnian hefeweizen for the both of them.

"Are you far from home?" She asked him.

"I am," replied Lucien. He leaned forward in his chair, laying on the charm.

"Must be lonely for you out here. There already aren't a lot of us and there's even fewer in the Dwendalian Empire."

Lucien chuckled. "Probably for you, too, yeah?"

Behemoth smiled at him. "It used to be. It took me a while to find a place where I belong. I could introduce you?"

The barkeep returned with their drinks. Lucien thanked them.

"Hells," he said to Moth with a short laugh. "Why not?"

* * *

Molly felt sick. He was never going to sleep again. Every time he closed his eyes, someone else was there, someone who was not him. Someone else's memories were in his skull and he  _ hated _ it. This was the first time it was a place he recognized. Berleben. Where the hells else had Lucien gone?

Wait.

Berleben. 

They were near Berleben.

Molly  _ knew _ he had recognized that bend in the road. He knew approximately where they were in the Empire. Holy shit. How had they gotten here so quickly? It had to be magic. Fuck. He missed Caleb. Caleb would be able to get them out of here, tell him what in the Nine Hells was happening and how. And Molly would kiss him full on the mouth for the sin of having such a good and sexy brain. These Caustic Heart assholes were fucking organized. Molly didn't originally get that impression when Caliana had first told them about the cult. He'd made the supremely foolish assumption they were just a loose collection of assholes being assholes in some remote part of the Empire. And they were going to give him to someone else. He had a hunch about this  _ other group _ as well, someone connected to Lucien, and it made his stomach turn.

_ Emperor _ , his mind oh so helpfully provided him.

Molly glanced at Gentle. He was asleep. Molly stretched his neck around to look at the dwarf. Also asleep. He waited a moment, listened for both their slow breaths, before he silently continued his attempt to escape his bonds. He would risk an escape. It would be absolutely worth it. Molly had to hand it to that dwarf. He was amazing at rope work. In any other circumstance he would've asked the dwarf for some pointers on technique. Asshole was a rigger for sure. It took Molly far too long to work out the design and find a weakness in the knots.

_ Finally. _

The ropes came loose. Molly pulled the rope through the bars after his hands. He took some time massaging the feeling back into his arms, working out the stiffness, and also to check on the dwarf. He was still asleep. Molly worked on the lock next. All he could do was attempt and hope he'd be able to do this kind of stupid thing he was attempting to do. Finally, a soft click. Molly's heart was pounding in his chest. He quickly glanced back to the dwarf. Still asleep. 

_ Holy shit. _

Molly offered up a quick prayer to whatever deity was watching and then carefully pushed open the front of the cage. He went slow. Stopped when it began to creak. Glanced back at the dwarf. Still fucking asleep. Continued pushing open the door with agonizing slowness. Each time it creaked, he stopped and checked on the dwarf. The asshole was a heavy sleeper at least. Molly slithered out of the cage, taking the rope with him, and stretched his stiff muscles.

He checked once more on the dwarf. Amazing.  _ Still _ asleep. Molly had always been right to count on his luck. But what was his next move from here? Maybe the dwarf had keys on him. No, that would be stupid if he did. They knew Molly had been making escape attempts, so why would they leave a lookout with keys within easy reach? He needed to get Gentle out first.

Gentle was curled up in his cage, his tail wrapped tightly around his body and tucked up under his chin securely. After a moment's thought and a shrug, Molly reached in through the bars and put his hand over Gentle's mouth. He really couldn't think of a better way to do this. Gentle started awake with a muffled gasp. The panic in his eyes was quickly replaced with confusion when he saw Molly.

"Keep quiet," whispered Molly. Gentle nodded. "Don't have a plan yet. Just...just stay."

They both glanced at the still somehow sleeping dwarf. Molly, after too much gods damned work and time, freed Gentle. The other tiefling hardly waited for the cage to open before he darted across the room. Molly wanted to shout. He followed the other tiefling, but was not quick enough to stop him from tackling the dwarf. The dwarf's shout was cut short as Gentle smashed his meaty hand over the dwarf's mouth.

"Shut the fuck up!" Hissed Gentle. 

"What the fuck are you doing?" Molly whispered angrily.

"Getting us out of this fucking place! Give me that rope."

The dwarf squirmed beneath Gentle. He freed a hand and struck Gentle underneath the chin with the heel of his hand. Molly heard Gentle's teeth crunch together. Gentle reeled back with a pained grunt. The dwarf rolled to his feet.

"You fucking stupid," the dwarf shouted as he planted his feet and drew a dagger from his boot. "Gods damned devils!"

Molly wrapped the ropes around his fists, keeping a length of the rope loose between them. Gentle was writhing on the floor and groaning. He clearly wasn't used to brawls.

"Now, now," said Molly. "Let's not do anything you'll regret."

"You think I don't have the fucking balls to stab you? Long as you don't die, it don't matter!"

"Look, just let us out of here and there won't be any trouble."

"Are you an actual moron?" The dwarf was still shouting. "We're all locked in here!"

Gentle struggled to his feet. Molly lunged for the dwarf. He twisted away from the predictable stab and leveled a punch to the dwarf's nose. With a choked off grunt, the dwarf stumbled away from Molly. His nose was a splattered ruin across his face and his beard was thick with blood. Molly pressed his advantage. He tackled the dwarf, sent them both sprawling to the stone floor, and quickly wrapped the free length of rope around the dwarf’s wrist.

“Help!” The dwarf screamed.

“The dagger!” Molly shouted at Gentle. “Grab the  _ fucking dagger _ and make yourself useful!”

Gentle stumbled over to where Molly was struggling with the dwarf. The dwarf was burlier than Molly and Molly could feel himself flagging as he struggled against the nigh-immovable force of muscle. Molly wasn’t much of a grappler. He was far more threatening with a weapon in his hand. Gentle finally snatched up the stiletto. His mouth was bleeding.

“Help,” screamed the dwarf again. “The prisoners!”

Gentle was bigger than Molly, bigger than the dwarf, and he used his weight to shove Molly aside and then plunged the dagger into the center of the dwarf’s throat. Molly shouted. They were all splattered with a gout of blood as Gentle wrenched the dagger free. The iron door banged open and armed guards flooded into the room.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
